Dark Knight
by mercscilla
Summary: Whatever is going with them? It has to stop. But neither Chloe nor Rush expected it to go like this...  set between 1x13 and 1x14


**Warnings:** Sex and mild violence  
**Author's Note:** Written for the "Big Bang - Let's Blow Something Up!" challenge at LJ's stargateland.  
**Disclaimer:** I own neither the show nor the characters. I don't earn any money with this piece. I just do it for fun.

* * *

She finds it by accident. The dark-colored wooden piece is barely visible on _Destiny_'s floor but she knows right away what it is.

Chloe crouches down, pulls it from the bars of the grid and turns the piece around in her hand, studying the knight from all sides. The piece is smooth around the corners even though it is carved by hand. She has watched her father play chess often enough to know the difference between hand-made and mass-produced chess pieces at first sight and touch.

Closing her fingers around the knight, she straightens up and looks around, eyes narrowed. She is not the first to explore this particular corridor. Interesting.

Unlike most of the crew believe, Chloe is not sitting around like a damesl in distress waiting for rescue but goes off from time to time to learn as much as she can about _Destiny_. Especially after the more or less failed coup and her return to the ship from the Earth-like planet, she has spent hours pouring over data about the Icarus Project and _Destiny_. Data she previously had no access to but now, here on _Destiny_, is shared in an open knowledge data base.

If Chloe is honest with herself, it is also the fact that since Matt and Eli are barely talking to her (a short "Morning" here and a mumbled "Hey" there do not count as conversation), she feels alone and is looking for a distraction more than ever. And discovering the secrets of _Destiny_ is definitely high on that list.

Rubbing her thumb over the chess piece, Chloe doesn't dwell long on the question to whom the piece belongs. She's quite sure she knows. On this ship there is only one person who has the patience to carve every piece by hand.

_Rush_.

Leaning against the bulkhead, Chloe closes her eyes and sighs. To say that their current relationship (if you can even call whatever they have a 'relationship') is complicated, is an understatement. Before it was pretty much black and white: Chloe blamed him for her father's death while Rush saw her as an useless whiny girl. Then came her abduction, their nightmares and his tracking device that resulted in a bond that is all shades of grey and that she cannot define.

They haven't spoken to each other since his surgery and that is not helping their situation either. The few times they cross paths, an uncomfortable tension starts to rise as soon as their eyes meet. It makes her skin itch and Rush clench his fists. Chloe always turns away first, tries to escape this unwelcome feeling as fast as possible but every time, _every single time_, she feels his eyes following her and she cheeks start to burn.

The only comfort she has is the certainty that except for a small group of people, no one knows what really happened during the coup. If people wonder about their behavior, they write it off as the still going on blame-game.

Chloe opens her eyes and pushes off the wall. Turning left, her steps slow and measured just like her gaze as it traces the outline of the chess piece in her hand, she starts walking down the corridor again. Maybe it is time to clear the air and find a balance. Glancing up from inspecting the knight as she comes to an intersection, she stops dead in her tracks.

_I didn't mean_ now _,_ Chloe thinks darkly, glaring at the ceiling. The lights flicker for a moment as if _Destiny_ is shrugging, telling her that no time is better than _now_, and of course, _he_ has to look up at the interruption.

The room he's occupying is small, there's just enough space for the table with its chair, a lamp and a small window being the only sources of light and yet his eyes find hers right away and he stops whatever he's doing. As he turns his hands down, Chloe catches a glimpse of the knife and another chess piece he's been working on.

So, she was right.

He never breaks eye contact with her as he slowly puts down the unfinished piece and the knife, placing them precisely next to the others.

"Miss Armstrong," he acknowledges her presence. "What can I do for you?"

Chloe flinches and feels blood rushing to her face. Not in embarrassment but in anger. The first time in days they finally start talking to each other and suddenly it's _Miss Armstrong_ again? He's still staring at her, a mocking gleam dancing in his dark eyes, trying to make her look away first but Chloe isn't a senator's daughter for nothing.

She squares her shoulders, raises her hand and shows him the piece she holds between her thumb and two fingers, the light from behind casting its shadow large and blurry on the floor.

"I've come across something of yours, I believe, _Doctor Rush_," she replies and feels a sense of triumph as Rush stills completely, every muscle in his body going taut.

But then his gaze darkens further, the mocking gleam turning into something else and the small flame of victory turns into a fire of unease. Her skin starts to prickle as the usual tension thickens in the room, burning along her nerves. In this moment, with his whole being solely focused on her, Chloe begins to understand why by some he is considered a man you should never underestimate.

Except for that one time when she was blind with rage and sorrow, when she literally tried to hit the hell out of him, Chloe never really had a toe-to-toe with Rush and even though she wants to find middle ground again, she is definitely not ready, not prepared to meet this dangerous version of Rush head on.

Cursing her own stupidity for thinking she could, Chloe's eyes widen, her face turning pale, as the undefinable look in his face is overshadowed by an unmistakably predatory one.

She needs to get away. Right now.

Lowering her hand, her fingers nervously dancing up and down the knight, she starts to retreat in ever-deepening alarm, her heart racing faster than _Destiny_ in FTL. It requires every inch of backbone she possesses to hold his gaze. "If you excuse me, I just remembered that T.J. needed me," Chloe says, forcing a smile (she had years to practice how to do _that_) and prays she gets away before this whole thing blows up.

But she should have known better. Luck isn't exactly on her side today.

"Miss Armstrong." Chloe hates clichés but in this moment all she can think about is how much Rush's voice sounds like steel tearing through black velvet. "The knight, if you please."

She freezes, the smile dying away and her suddenly clam fingers involuntarily clench tightly the chess piece until they turn white. For a fleeting moment, Chloe pictures his face should she break the knight and she fights a hysterical giggle. She wonders when she crossed the line from Calm Chloe to Crazy Chloe but then again, crazy might be the right set of mind to deal with this situation.

Placing his hands flat on the table, Rush pushes the chair back and stands up, slowly as if he has all the time in the universe (and he has), trying to dominate the situation, dominate _her_, with the sheer power of his presence and damn him - he is succeeding. It is then that Chloe finally breaks away from his gaze to watch the play of dark and light as shadows slowly crawl over his upper body until she can no longer tell him apart from his surroundings.

She becomes aware of the sudden silence that descends as if even _Destiny_ has ceased her low humming and is waiting for the inevitable.

Rush extends his left arm, partly veiled by darkness, partly bathed in light, and uncurls his fingers. It is a battle of wills that Chloe already lost because she knows she has no choice but to follow his order. And so does Rush. Damn him again.

"You're a _bastard_," Chloe whispers furiously and her gaze snaps back to where she thinks his face might be, trying to glare at him through the shadows.

A dark chuckle echoes around her. "Aye, Miss Armstrong, that I am." His rasp voice sends shivers down her spine. A flash in the shadows, the light of the corridor catching in his eyes as he steps closer to the table until his legs are touching it. "And you better not forget it. Now, _the knight_."

Pressing her lips together in a thin line, Chloe straightens her back, her eyes blazing with fury. He wants the damn chess piece? He can have it. And go to hell right with it. She has enough of this.

She marches to the table, slaps the knight into his open palm and turns away but his other hand snaps out of the darkness like a snake and grasps her wrist, his strong fingers closing around it in a hard grip, jerking her forward and suddenly she can't breath, gasps for air as her hip crashes into the table.

Chloe squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip as blinding pain flashes through her body. But she doesn't have time to fight it, she is tearing at the edge of falling, her free hand scrambling desperately over the table to find something to hold onto before she ends up sprawled in a heap.

Excruciating seconds later Chloe's fingers finally close around the edge of the table. Taking a deep breath, she starts to get her body and mind back under control, flexes her fingers to adjust her grip and-

_Oh, no. Nonono._ She freezes, eyes flying wide open, the pain in her hip instantly forgotten and stares at her own personal hell.

Her hand is gripping the table right between Rush's thighs.

Before she can even wrap her mind around the situation, (Rush'sthighs_Rush_'sthighsRush's_thighs_), she hears his quick intake of breath from somewhere above in the shadows and his legs shift unconsciously closer to her fingers. A dark heat rises under her skin and her senses go haywire.

His harsh breathing makes the tiny hair rise on her neck, the scratchy and yet soft material of his pants sends goose bumps down the length of her body whenever it brushes against the back of her fingers, her skin burns under his broad palm and long thin fingers where his hand encloses her wrist and she drowns in the earthy spice of him as she finally manages to take an unsteady breath.

No man, not even Matt, has such a powerful _male_ scent and Chloe tries to catch it, to get a taste of it with the tip of her tongue but a sharp pain bursts her out of her trance back into reality as the grip around her wrist tightens and she winces from the pressure.

For one horrifying moment Chloe thinks she made a fool of herself. She doesn't dare looking up, stares down at the table instead but then, out of the corner of her eyes, she catches sight of his hand that still holds the forgotten knight. It's trembling, his fingers flexing once, twice and a tremor runs through his whole body.

"Miss Armstrong," Rush says huskily, his voice not quite as strong as it used to be and her eyes fly up to his face. He stands close to the circle of light and now that her vision has adjusted to the darkness, Chloe finally sees the hard features of his face, the tense muscles and, as her gaze travels further up, his blazing eyes.

What she sees in them, takes her breath away and she swallows, her tongue darting out to lick her suddenly dry lips. Rush's eyes drop to them and Chloe feels a light tugging at her wrist as he leans down, drawing her closer to him with every heartbeat. She has to stand on tiptoes to keep her balance and her fingers gripping the edge of the table twitch again, her nails scrapping lightly over his crotch.

He freezes and hisses through his teeth, his eyes closing as if in pain and she hears the blood roaring in her ears. Chloe studies him, follows the tiny droplets of sweat above his eyebrows as they roll down over the taut skin of his cheekbones until they reach his lips, slightly parted, the warm air escaping them stirring her hair, fueling the first signs of arousal. It is fascinating and addictive, this power she has over him.

And so she moves her hand again, turns it sideways, this time skimming the bulge in his pants with her fingertips on purpose.

A low growl breaks through the silence and Rush drops the knight. Neither of them cares where it lands. His hand covers hers in a tight grip, curving around her fingers until short blunt nails dig into her skin.

Chloe is still watching him as he opens his eyes, the fire raging in them burning her from head to toe. "Rush," she breathes and something inside him snaps.

He hauls her over the table, body, legs and all, drags her to his side of it until she is somewhat sitting upright, with her legs dangling over the edge and steps between her parted knees. With one hand he catches her wrist and tugs her left arm behind her back while the other presses her hand again on the edge of the table, immobilizing her. Chloe's chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath and her pules quickens as she becomes aware of the proximity of her fingers to his lower body.

She tests the grip by arching her back, trying to shake off his hands, but he doesn't loose his hold on her. Instead he smirks, full of smug satisfaction, and raises an eyebrow, challenging her.

Defiance flickers in her eyes, tinged with a small amount of unease, but there is no real fear. The man in front of her won't hurt her physically but he is a master of words and those can be far more effective and do far more damage than any broken skin.

"Let go," she demands in a low voice but he only shakes his head, so close to hers that his longer hair brushes against her upraised face. It feels like a whip and Chloe recoils. His lips twist into a sneer at her reaction and he invades what little space she has left, leaning down until she can see the different shades of color in his eyes.

"No," he answers quietly, voice low and rough, and the hand holding her arm behind her back in an iron grip, gives it a quick, painful squeeze and then he's pushing her forward, slowly and deliberately pulling her body closer to his.

Startled, Chloe breaks eye-contact and looks down at his hand that's keeping hers pressed down on the surface, right on the table edge, close to his thighs. Rush makes no move to release it and suddenly she feels light-headed, her heart-rate speeding up and she fights hard to control her breathing.

Her eyes jump from her hand to his face, then back to her hand again and she starts struggling against his hold, turning her wrist left and right but he's not giving an inch. And with every inch he's not giving but instead closing the distance between their bodies, her panic grows.

"Rush!" Chloe hisses, tugging more forcefully on her wrist, ignoring the prickles of pain it causes but it is to no avail. By now there are less than six inches left between her wrist and her lower body.

The lights flicker again, then go completely out, plunging them into darkness and all that's left is the blue-green glow from the FTL, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. Taken by surprise Chloe ceases her struggle for a split second and that's all Rush needs. He lets go of her arm and tangles his hand in her hair, closing into a fist and tilting her face back up to his. Alarmed, her hand clutches his raised arm, her fingers curling over his sleeves, against his hard-muscled forearms.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish." His hot, controlled breath ghosts over her skin and Chloe swallows hard, her throat suddenly painful dry. "I am _not_ you're little soldier boy."

His cutting remark snaps her out of her daze and Chloe reacts without thinking, leaning right into his face, and her lips graze his with every word she speaks. "No, _you_ rather let others risk their necks."

Rush snarls at her, low and dangerous, and his fingers slide to the base of her neck, sending a ripple of heat down her back. His other hand abruptly releases hers, grabs her hip and crushes her to him, bringing his mouth down to  
hers.

Her gasp is lost in his mouth, her heart skips a beat and she braces her hands against his shoulders to keep her balance, her nails digging into his skin.

The kiss is raw and powerful, bordering on savage and he moves his lips over hers, sucks, bites at them, _punishes_ her for making him loose control. He's a man drowning in this haze of want, need and primal lust, a stark contrast to his usual cold demeanor.

She moans and feels his fingers tighten on her hip in response and knows she will wear shadows of finger-bruises on her hip for a week. His coarse beard scratches along her cheek but she wraps legs around his slim waist, pressing closer, and it's his turn to groan.

His cock is hot and hard, Chloe can feel it through the layers separating them, and her mind goes blank. All she wants, all she needs, is to feel him just right _there_ and she rocks her hips against his livid cloth-covered erection. Not once before has she been this aroused or this quickly.

Rush grunts, bucks uncontrollably into her, his hand spanning across her butt as he pulls her closer, deepening the searing kiss, delves deeper into her mouth, snaking his tongue along hers, possessing, invading.

Thrust for thrust, she welcomes him between her thighs, opens herself to him, and he growls in satisfaction at her surrender, his hard cock pressing against her clothed sex with perfect friction.

He breaks the kiss, bares his teeth and drags them down her throat, scraping along her hypersensitive skin, and buries his face in her long, dark curls. She heart pounds as the bridge of his nose brushes her jaw and she arches her back, eyes sliding shut, her head falling back into his hand, and he catches her, guides her movement.

Her moans, whimpers, echo in the small room, and his thrusts become more forceful, his harsh breathing in her ear feeding her desire, her arousal, and she feels another rush of wetness God, she is so close, _soclose_, and her whole body tenses. Her fingers claw at his back, and he chuckles darkly, knows she is as lost as he is, and the sound nearly sends her over. He grinds into her again, harder, faster, and she cries out, his name a husky, breathless whisper, as his cock hits her right _there_, and she's coming, shaking with the force of her release.

"Chloe," he growls hoarsely, his rough voice rasping against her skin, and then he's following her over the edge, shuddering against her.

They collapsed together, still feeling aftershocks running through their bodies, trying to catch their breath.

Rush slowly untangles his fingers from her hair and straightens up, the tips of his fingers lingering on her skin as he caresses the contour of her face in the dark. Chloe is acutely aware of his fingertips near her eye, tracing over her cheekbone, down along her jawbone, until his thumb comes to rest at the corner of her mouth.

Unconsciously she licks her lips, her tongue brushing against his thumb, and he leans down again -

"Hey, Rush, you're there?" Young calls from somewhere down the barely illuminated corridor and his voice is like a bucket of ice-cold water. It all comes rushing back, the past, present, _their fight_.

In a flash Rush has stepped away from her, putting a good two feet distance between them, and Chloe grabs the edge of the table to avoid tumbling off it, blood roaring in her ears, her mind spinning.

"Rush?" Young inquires again, impatiently. "We could really use your help."

The light from the window outlines his body, rigid, motionless, like a stone statue. "I'm here, Colonel." His voice is husky, the only sign that he is as affected as she is. "I'm already working on it. I just have to get something from my quarters, then I will meet you back in the control room." _He's going to change his pants,_ Chloe realizes, and then, as reality sets in, _because he- because we- oh my god..._

"Okay. See you there." They listen to Young's receding steps, slowly fading until they are alone once more, hidden by layers of darkness. They are frozen in place, him at the window, she on the table, their labored breathing the only sound in the silent room.

Seconds tick by, air thick with tension, and just before the pressure becomes too muhc, it is Rush who makes the first move. She flinches and thinks he's walking back towards her, and stiffens but the table she's sitting on is small and he is in fact going to step past it.

But in the last moment he stops and leans down to her ear. "This isn't over," he grounds out low, rough. Chloe feels her breath catch, it may have stopped, and she turns her head, her eyes growing wide as the emergency light from the corridor hits his face.

Blazing pools of gold held her captive and she knows he is right. It isn't over.

And then Rush is gone and Chloe slides down to the ground with a slight, strangled sound, her body no longer able to hold her up, trembling from head to toe, pressing a fist to her mouth.

Whatever the hell just happened here is going to change the dynamic between them forever.

She is just not sure if the change will be good or bad.

Her hand drops to the ground, hitting something laying there. Chloe closes her fingers around the object, her thumb sweeping its length and a sob escapes her before she can stop it.

It's the chess piece, the knight, that started all this.

Her head falls back against the table leg as she stares unseeingly at the flashes of blue light outside of the window.

.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.::.

The next day they both get lost. He in his own mind, she among the stars.

Chloe wakes up with the intention to win back Eli's and Matt's trust and keep her distance from Rush. At breakfast she starts with Eli and it is him who tells her that Rush connected with the chair. A twinge of something flickers in the back of her mind but she ignores it. Instead she jumps at the chance to join the offworld team.

They never make it back in time. And Rush can't figure out how to help them before their time runs out.

She is never going to know that he went to the room and stared at the chess pieces for over an hour, without moving once. He is never going to know that she touched carefully his glasses when neither Matt nor Eli were looking, committing every scratch, every dent, to memory.

When they return, Matt and her are together again. More or less. And if Rush feels anything about that development, he hides it pretty well. He got his scientist girl after all.

They don't encounter each other alone for some time after that. The blueberry aliens make sure of that.

But then the offworld team brings back the hallucination-causing ticks. And suddenly she finds herself backed up against a wall in one of the deserted corridors. The others are off searching for Rush, Camile and Greer, but it is just her luck to be cornered by _him_ alone. Again.

"Hello, Miss Armstrong."

"Rush."

- END -

You can find Part 2 (picspam, wallpapers and icons) at community.*livejournal.*com/street_of_mercy/150153.*html (remove the *)


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